


Words of Wisdom

by ThexInvisiblexGirl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, MSR, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28011651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThexInvisiblexGirl/pseuds/ThexInvisiblexGirl
Summary: Following a grueling dental treatment, Mulder appears on Scully’s doorstep hoping to cheer her up and make amends during the most challenging period of their partnership. The evening unfolds in an interesting way. Takes place early in Season Six.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 43





	Words of Wisdom

He learned about it by accident, while calling the administrative office in Quantico looking for her. Following their recent misadventure in Nevada, the higher ups seemed dead set on keeping them apart for as much as possible, which resulted in her being frequently sent to the Academy under the guise of a consultant or, more rarely, a substitute instructor. He knew she had secretly enjoyed those stints far better than the alternative, and found he couldn't really resent her for it. Much as he hated to admit it, despite his brave facade, those background checks were beginning to weigh on him, but he refused to give up. He'd never considered himself a great optimist, but he wanted to believe there were good times ahead. Because honestly, it can't get any worse than this.

He knew Scully was due at Quantico that day, but he couldn't for the life of him remember her schedule, and he needed to ask her about a certain background check she had conducted the day before. After trying her on her cell phone several times and getting her answering service each of those times, he tried the pathology department at the Academy, only to be told she wasn't there at all.

"Didn't you know?" asked the elderly secretary on the other end. He shook his head in reply, momentarily forgetting she couldn't see him. "She took the afternoon off. Taking a wisdom tooth out, the poor thing," she tsked her sympathy.

"Was that today?" He wasn't sure why he felt compelled to disguise his cluelessness as forgetfulness. It's not like the woman was in any position to judge him for not knowing of Scully's absence; she didn't even know he was her partner. And how come Scully had failed to mention it to him? Obviously he didn't expect her to report to him as if he were her boss, but there was a time when they used to tell each other those mundane, unimportant things. Of course, that was Before. This was how he had come to think of their partnership these days, in terms of Before and After, and he knew exactly when things between them shifted – Diana; Antarctica; their reassignment. He couldn't bear the thought of Scully shutting out to him. That _would_ be worse fate than those goddamned background checks.

"Would you like to leave a message?"

"No. No, thank you," he said, already collecting his stuff and shutting down his computer. He had never had his wisdom teeth removed, by some luck he'd never needed to, but his mother did during his teens, and he had vivid memories of her agony. Dentistry must have evolved immensely since then and Scully was certainly tougher than his mother, but if it was anything like what his mother had endured, his partner was going to need all the comfort she could get, and he was more than willing to be there for her, even if their partnership was hanging in a delicate balance these days.

He left the Hoover building by the main entrance and walked to the new ice cream parlor around the corner, then returned to retrieve his car from the parking lot, heading for Georgetown. He chose flavors he knew for sure she'd liked – dark chocolate, raspberry, salted caramel. He hoped that his attention to detail would remind her how much she had meant to him, despite the current state of things. He was determined to do everything to set things right.

Dusk fell as he parked in front of her building, and he was relieved to see light coming through her window. Light rain began to fall some time ago, and he tucked the ice cream bag under his arm as he jogged towards the entrance. He took the stairs two by two with more confidence in his steps than he'd actually felt. He wasn't even sure why he was nervous. He just wanted to do something nice for her. Surely she would appreciate the gesture and not kick him out?

He knocked lightly on her door, then slightly louder, and just when he debated whether or not to just use his keys, he heard the muffled sound of feet from the other side of the door, then the jiggle of the lock.

He did a double take when their eyes met – he couldn't help it. Her appearance was a stark contrast to his no-nonsense partner, bringing him to the dark time of her illness, which he had buried as deeply in his mind as it was willing to remain. She had on dark leggings and a huge burgundy sweatshirt that made her look tiny and frail. The absence of her high heels made their height difference much more prominent. Under different circumstances he would have made a joke, asking if Agent Scully was home. But if her red eyes and slightly swollen cheek were any indication to how that would play out, he thought he'd better zip it.

"Mulder, what are you doing here?" she asked. Her voice was raspy as if she had been crying, and he felt his heart sink just a little further. If there was something he couldn't bear, it was the notion of her being hurt in any way. And she was evidently suffering; the mere sight of it sent a searing pain through him.

"I was looking for you at Quantico," he replied, as if that was enough of an explanation. "How are you doing?" he asked softly, instinctively reaching out to cradle her cheek.

"Don't," she pleaded, flinching back and away from him. He dropped his arm, momentarily struck by her rejection but struggling to keep the dismay off his expression. "It still hurts," she added in a whisper, and her lips began to tremble. While her explanation put his mind at ease, he felt like kicking himself for bringing fresh tears to her eyes.

She sidled to let him in, and he followed her inside. "When did you get back?"

"About an hour ago." Their eyes met, and she shook her head. "I'm a bit of a mess I'm afraid."

Her apology of sorts, although not unexpected, made him disgruntled. It killed him that after all this time and everything they had been through together, she didn't trust him enough to allow herself to be vulnerable around him. Didn't she know he would never think less of her if she just let go? But pointing it out now might upset her, which would completely contradict the purpose of his visit. And so, not wishing to start a fight, he offered, "Some ice cream might help."

"I picked out some chocolate chip cookie dough on my way home, I'm happy to share if you..." Her voice trailed off as he handed her the bag he was holding, barely able to hide a mischievous grin. She stared at him as if she'd truly not expected it from him. A gasp escaped her bruised lips, and a flicker of emotion made her eyes glisten once more. Instead of rejoicing he had done something right for a change, he was tormenting himself over making her cry yet again, even if it was for an entirely different reason.

"You're welcome," he said gently, hoping to alleviate the emotion that seemed to overwhelm her. "Go grab a spoon before it melts."

Still at a loss of words she nodded, and walked passed him towards the kitchen, still sniffing. He made himself comfortable on her sofa, then looked around the room. There was a paperback on the coffee table, a collection of short stories by Daphne du Maurier. He smiled to himself as he picked it up to read the back. He liked that about being at Scully's, randomly revealing another facet of her character, be it a new CD in her massive collection, a framed photograph he hadn't noticed before, or in this case the book she was currently reading. He collected those bits of information like precious gems, all those little things she seemed reluctant to let others (himself included) see, compiling into a woman he kept realizing he really knew nothing about.

He put the book down as he heard her pad back into the living room. He was surprised (but at the same time not at all) when she handed him a second spoon. Accepting the spoon, he discarded his jacket and loosened his tie, preparing himself for the challenge of not getting ice cream all over his dress shirt. She sat cross-legged across from him, and beamed at him once she opened the box and saw the flavors he had chosen. She scooped all three flavors onto her spoon, then put it in her mouth. Her expression changed instantly, shifting from misery to a mix of bliss and relief.

"Better?"

"Mmm," she nodded. "That's so sweet of you, Mulder, thank you," she said earnestly.

"I figured that if there was one time I could get away with a health lecture, I should take my chances," he quipped, uncomfortable with the hint of admiration her voice carried. She actually cracked a tiny smile at his lame joke, but it soon died out and she winced. He wanted to pull her into his arms, shield her from the pain. Instead he mumbled, "Sorry," feeling utterly useless.

She shrugged off his concern, then put another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth. She hesitated, then looked up at him. There was certain shyness in her gaze. "I'm not very good with dental treatments. That's why I didn't tell you, in case you were wondering." Given the look that accompanied the statement, she obviously knew that he was. She tilted her head slightly, looking at him curiously. "Have you ever had a wisdom tooth removed?"

He felt almost guilty, knowing what his reply was going to be. "Never had the pleasure, no."

"Lucky bastard," she glared at him, but was soon distracted by the ice cream.

"I remember my mom having hers removed, though. I couldn't let you suffer on your own." She rolled her eyes at him, but her heart wasn't really in it, focused as she seemed on her own misery. And given the circumstances, who could blame her? "Is this your first time?"

"Nope. I had one removed shortly before we first met. The same week actually. I remember thinking that if I could handle that, meeting you would be a piece of cake," she rolled her eyes, this time with slightly more intent, and they shared a nostalgic smile. "I've been putting off taking the other one out for six years, which is proof to my cowardice," she added sardonically.

"I never knew this about you, Scully. You being afraid of dental treatments." It was somewhat hard to believe. She was cutting into dead bodies for a living, a task which made him slightly queasy just thinking about it. She battled an incurable cancer as ferociously as she'd known how, and won. Hell, she'd put up with him and the X Files for over six years now. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing she couldn't do, nothing that might intimidate her.

"I'm not very proud of it," she said sheepishly.

"I can see how it might ruin your reputation at the bureau."

She narrowed her eyes at him briefly, but didn't come up with a retort. "I got it from my mom. A pair of cowards, the both of us."

Like mother like daughter, both Scully and her mother were the most formidable women he had ever known. He shook his head skeptically. "That's nonsense."

"It's true, actually. My dad was the one taking me to every dental appointment ever since I was little. Or Melissa, if he was at sea; she was fearless. I remember how, on the way back, if I sat there miserable and feeling sorry for myself, he'd always look at me through the rearview mirror and tell me, everything in life is only for now."

"Words of wisdom."

"In true Ahab fashion," she smiled sadly. "When I had my first wisdom tooth removed he couldn't come with me for whatever reason, and nor could Melissa, and so my mom was there instead, and she was as miserable as if she was the one sitting on that chair. They had to call an ambulance for her, she was so pale." She smiled fondly at the memory. "We all made fun of her for weeks on end."

"And this time?" With both her father and Melissa gone, the answer seemed obvious, and it tugged at his heart before she even replied.

"I'm a strong, independent woman," she said with a shrug and just a hint of irony in her voice. "I went by myself."

"You should have told me," he grumbled, frustrated by his inability to be there for her in her time of need.

"It's nice of you to offer, but I sort of needed to prove to myself I could do this on my own... and I could. I guess it's like what they say about giving birth, though. The body represses the trauma so that you forget how fucking painful the first time was by the time you have to do it again."

His eyebrow quirked up at the profanity; her eyes burnt with defiance, and so he didn't dare to tell her off. "Well, let me make myself useful now. Is there anything I can get you? Are you allowed to eat? I make mean mashed potatoes."

"I don't mean to cast doubt upon your culinary skills, Mulder, but it's fine. I just need to feel sorry for myself for a while. You're welcome to stay if you don't mind it."

For a second he considered leaving, not because he minded a pity party on her behalf; maybe she preferred to be left alone. But then he met her eyes, and there was a hint of a plea there, and his mind was set. "It's actually nice to know you have your moments of weakness, Scully. It does wonders for my self-esteem."

She frowned at him, then handed him the remote. "Here, I'm fine with whatever you choose."

She went to put the ice cream in the freezer, leaving him behind to channel surf. He did so absentmindedly, all the while musing on how this was the most normal exchange they'd had in months. Whenever it was just the two of them like this, it was as though a fog had been lifted, something had clicked back into place, and they could just... _be_ again. He wished it wasn't under such unfortunate circumstances, but beggars can't be choosers. Not these days, when those moments seemed so few and far between.

There was a clatter in the kitchen as if she was looking for something, then the sound of water being poured into a glass. He looked over his shoulder to see what she was up to, and noticed her pop something into her mouth – painkillers, he assumed. She caught his eye as she returned and shook her head.

"I'd better take these before the anesthesia completely wears off. They always knock me out for a while, so you might have to show yourself out at some point. I apologize in advance."

He grinned crookedly at her. "Go for it, Scully."

"What are we watching?" she asked him as she sat back down, closer this time, lifting her legs to get more comfortable. His entire body went rigid as her knees accidentally brushed his thigh. It was moments like this he had feared would give him away, but she didn't seem to notice. Tucking her feet beneath her, she reached behind her for the fury throw that lay folded against the back of the sofa, and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"It's, uhhh..." he managed, his mind suddenly everywhere, distracted by her proximity. He glanced at the TV screen as if the answer would simply reveal itself to him, but couldn't remember the name of the crime drama he had stopped on before. Oblivious to his sudden distress (and to the fact they were sitting so close, for that matter), she nodded her approval, scooting even closer, all but resting her head against his shoulder. His heart just about stilled at the sigh of contentment she didn't try to conceal.

The painkillers kicked in shortly after, as was evident by the way her body was slumped against the sofa, the lower register of her voice. He loved that even though she was so endearingly out of it, she managed to comment on the case as the episode on screen unfolded, then pointed at the culprit about halfway in before any of the characters had even suspected the guy. When he was indeed revealed as the killer, he glanced down at her, meaning to command her, only to find her eyes closed and her lips slightly agape in sleep.

He smiled fondly, reveling at the chance to just look at her. The flickering light from the TV danced across her face, giving it a sort of a misty hue, making her freckles more prominent somehow. She was nothing like Diana, he thought, and loathed himself for even attempting a comparison. She was all warmth and softness underneath her tough exterior; she lacked Diana's sharp angles, was incapable to embody that edginess, that darkness, all those things which had drawn him to Diana in the first place. That was years ago though, well in the past. He was now a different person with a different mindset, and a petite redhead with piercing blue eyes was the only future he could envision for himself. And several months ago he was about to kiss her, and she was about to let him.

But now he barely knew where they stood. Neither of them had brought up that moment since; arguing about what happened next was easier, something they were more used to and did well. But he couldn't help but wonder; if she so adamantly denied everything she had seen and experienced with the alien virus, would she deny that as well? And then there was Diana to fret about, always manipulating and provoking. He was certain she had sensed there was something more to his and Scully's partnership, and resented it. He was constantly on his guard with her, never knowing when she would reveal whatever truths she'd been withholding. And yet, whenever she came calling, he couldn't help but being pulled back into old times, knowing full well no good would come of it, and doing so despite the look of apprehension Scully didn't even try to hide. Or maybe because of it, although he wasn't sure why he would want to deliberately vex her.

However, in Diana's absence, it was easier to lay aside the past and pretend the last few months had never happened. Easier to focus on what he'd truly wanted, and which he had almost managed to obtain. He liked telling himself that in a way he _had_ obtained it, even if the kiss on board of Queen Anne had been a figment of his imagination. Sighing wistfully, he glanced at Scully once more, then put the TV on mute and shifted so he could scoop her into his arms. Her body was warm, pliant, and he tried to resist the distraction it held as he lifted her off the sofa as gently as he could without disturbing her.

Nonetheless, her eyes fluttered open as he stood up. "Mulder, what are you doing?" she slurred, each word tumbling into the next in her stupor.

"I'm taking you to bed," he replied as if he had done it a thousand times. The truth was that his heart was racing, his body yearning for this to be a different scenario altogether. There was some relief in knowing she was probably too numb to notice.

She mumbled something that could have been both _oh okay_ or _put me down_ but offered no resistance as he advanced down the dark hallway. In her bedroom he placed her gently on her bed, then fumbled with the covers underneath her until he was able to tuck it neatly under her chin, mindful of her swollen cheek. She watched him the whole time, her blue eyes disoriented but surprisingly alert.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asked, brushing aside an auburn strand before he could think better of it. He was reluctant to leave her, but it seemed unlikely she would be wandering during the night

"No need," she replied huskily. "Just need to sleep it off." She let out a heavy sigh and closed her eyes. "You can go back to her."

As disjointed as her words were becoming, there was no mistaking her meaning. "What do you mean?" he asked anyway, carefully sitting on the edge of her bed. She opened her eyes a slit at the mattress shifted by his movement.

"Diana," was all she said, but the name spoke volumes.

"I'm going home, Scully."

Even in her exhaustion, she shot him a skeptical look.

"I am. She's not... We're not..."

"You were thinking about her."

"What? When?"

"Gibson said you were thinking about one of us. I know you were thinking about her. You always are." Although the effort of speaking it out while being so incoherent was evident on her face, he was astonished by how insistent and sure of herself she sounded about something that happened a while ago. And she was right, of course, he _was_ thinking of Diana that day; but only because of the complete shock her sudden appearance had inflicted. And he meant to point it out, when she suddenly continued in earnest. "Only you don't see..." she started, but her voice trailed off in fatigue. Or perhaps hesitation.

"What don't I see?" he persisted, feeling like a jerk for doing so. He knew he should let it go and let her sleep, but rare were the times they were openly communicating about stuff like this, and he needed to hear what she had to say, needed an affirmation that he still had his chance, that he wasn't alone in this.

"What's right in front of you. Which of us was thinking about you."

He thought of what he'd found in her eyes the moment his mind was set upon kissing her. And if this, now, was her way of telling him she was the one thinking of him that day they met Gibson, that was all the affirmation he could ask for. "I see more than you think, Scully," he murmured.

She shook her head dubiously. "If you did, you knew that I..."

"That you're what?" He shouldn't be doing this, taking advantage of her drowsiness and forcing her into confessions she wasn't ready to make, but he was so close now. "Just say it, Scully."

But she was already fast asleep, snoring lightly, the slightest frown upon her brow.

He sighed, feeling miffed despite himself. He stood up slowly, not wanting his movement to jolt her awake. Then he leaned towards her, gently touching his lips to her forehead. "Good night, Scully," he whispered.

He was halfway across her bedroom when her soft whisper made him freeze in place.

"Love you."

The two words knocked the wind out of him. He blinked into the darkness in shock, unsure if she had actually uttered them, or if it was in his head. "Love you, too," he said, feeling courageous, wondering if she was even awake to hear it. There was no reply, but he wasn't really expecting one. There was a rustle of sheets as she got more comfortable, and he lingered on the doorway one more moment before deciding it was time to go.

He left her apartment in a haze, their strange exchange echoing in his ears all the way home. It was one of those conversations he'd always been having with her in his head, as if preparing for the day one of them would actually have the guts to speak out. Of course he knew she'd loved him, which was why he resented her indifferent dismissal in the aftermath of his own drug-induced confession a few weeks back, as typical as it had been. Even if neither of them was ready to come to terms with it just yet, it was slowly beginning to push to the surface that day he chased her to this very hallway. He remembered the complete helplessness he felt when the threat of her quitting became an actuality. _We are close to something here, we're on the verge_ , he implored then _._ The words still rang true; only, they could have been applied to more than just their work. He stood there halfway to his apartment, imagining that ghost of her kiss on his lips before all hell broke loose.

There was a very good chance she would remember nothing of this evening the next morning, when she slept off the trauma of the afternoon. But honestly, he didn't care if she didn't remember. For once she had spoken her mind about Diana, about them, without hiding behind riddles or false pretenses. While he would have loved to hear her admit that she loved him under different circumstances, for now he was satisfied with the existence of the words. She _had_ loved him, and that was more than enough. There was still hope for this to become... Whatever it could become.

He let himself into his apartment, went through the motions of showering and changing and glaring at the waterbed he still didn't remember acquiring. He lay there already missing the warm weigh of her against his side. In the darkness he could feel his lips form a broad, goofy smile. And in that moment, everything else was marginal, unimportant. Scully loved him. That was honestly all he'd needed to know. Everything else would work itself out in due time.

There were good times ahead. He had to believe it. Diana, their current position at the FBI, all those were momentary setbacks, a test, perhaps, through which they would prove themselves worthy – of one another, of this better future ahead. Captain Scully was right. Everything in life is only for now. Words of wisdom, indeed. He couldn't wait to see what happened next.

Still grinning like a fool, he closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

**Author's Note:**

> Captain Scully's words of wisdom are borrowed from the musical Avenue Q, from a song under the same name :)


End file.
